Jar of Hearts
by GalnKay
Summary: Sirius and Hermione love to banter.


**Jar of Hearts:**

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><p>Sirius climbed the stairs wearily, his knees aching. He stopped, gripping onto the handrail tightly, and leaning over, breathing heavily in pain. For the first time since he got out of Azkaban, he felt old. He wasn't really <em>that <em>old, only forty-two, but he felt the time starting to erode on his body. He still was devilishly gorgeous, everybody thought so; his hair was as black and curly as ever, his eyes more grey than they had been when he had been in school. He had a dashing white smile that sent witches to their knees for him. Yet, there was a niggling feeling in his stomach every time he saw an elderly man or woman. He had discovered that even his looks were fading when he had nervously plucked a silver strand of hair from his scalp, and when he had begun to notice the tiny wrinkles near his eyes. Sure, now he was a sexy middle aged man, but soon he would cross the fine line between sexy and senile. He wasn't ready to be old. Ever since be had been brought into the world, he had been told what a handsome man he was.

He winced at the pain in his leg again as he lifted it to take a step. Mumbling under his breath, he suddenly stopped, straining his ears, listening. Music was pouring out of an old drawing room, which had been locked for years and years. Momentarily forgetting about his pain, he curiously crept up the remaining stairs, and peeked into the room.

At first he didn't see anything but dust. Predictable, given the room hadn't been used ever since the first war. The stuff was everywhere, floating around in the sunbeams streaming in from the now open French window on the back wall. Sirius glanced around the room, his eyes stopping when they landed on the tiny form of a girl playing the piano.

At twenty-one years old, Hermione Granger was small. Actually, she looked as white and fragile as porcelain, and just as breakable; it looked like she would shatter from even the smallest gust of wind. She had pale little hands, itty bitty feet, a curvy, well-endowed wisp of a body, and a small heart-shaped face. She was incredibly short for her age, as well, and didn't look as old as twenty-one. Her hair was a mane of golden curls, cascading down her back, and practically glowing in the sunlight. Her chocolate colored eyes were big and deep, and Sirius could easily get lost in them. She was bookish and quiet, but Sirius understood that she had many friends back at Hogwarts. Her words were soft and feminine, but witty, clever, and brash in their meaning. She was the type of girl whom you didn't want to make angry, however, because she had quite the temper about her; she could make Voldemort cry. But it was understood that Hermione Granger was a true lady, with a good background and a clean slate. He had also been told by a particularly exasperated Harry, that Hermione was gorgeous, and that most of the Griffyndor boys were fascinated by her. The problem was, she was the only one who didn't notice. Harry had explained that she was oblivious to the penetrating stares, the casual flirting, and the mental undressing done by his friends.

During the end of the previous year, Hermione had bravely decided to move out from under her parent's roof, and find her own flat. Unfortunately, her money was tight, and she couldn't really afford a decent place to stay. Naturally, Sirius had offered his long-time friend a room in his home, as he had plenty of space, considering he lived alone, except for Remus. Plus, he owed her.

He owed her for the fact that Hermione had given up the past three years of her life researching ways to retrieve him from the Veil. She had been given permission from the Ministry to study in their libraries and use their resources in order to get him back. And exactly one year ago, she succeeded in doing so. Her efforts had resulted in a very confused Sirius Black emerging from underneath the rune-covered arch, looking around, completely flabbergasted at the sight of all of his old friends. He was even more shocked to hear that the war was over, and that the world was fixed. He was most surprised, however, to know that Hermione had single-handedly saved him from the Veil.

And right now, Hermione looked beautiful. She was wearing an over-sized Quidditch T-shirt, it looked like one of Harry's, which hung over her slim frame in a lazy but attractive way, only enhancing her slim form even more. Her thick brown curls were pulled back into a messy twist, and her head was hung back, her brown eyes closed. Her thin little hands moved gracefully and effortlessly over the old black and white keys, music seeming to pour from her fingers like a fountain. A piece of yellowed and wrinkled sheet music lay open upon the piano's music stand, notes scattered across the pages, but Hermione didn't seem to need the paper to play. The chords were trilling and complicated, slow and peaceful.

Then, to Sirius' surprise, Hermione opened her mouth, and began to sing. Her voice was a sweet alto, rising and falling in a most lovely way. Sirius stood quietly in the arch of the doorframe, leaning against the post, indulging in the pure bliss of Hermione's song.

_And who do you think you are,_

_Running 'round leaving scars,_

_Collecting your jar of hearts,_

_And tearing love apart?_

_You're gonna catch a cold,_

_From the ice inside your soul._

_Don't come back for me._

And then the music stopped. Sirius opened his eyes, and looked. Hermione was gazing out the window, her face suddenly sad.

"That was beautiful." Sirius said, stepping into the room. Hermione spun around on the bench, her face scarlet.

"You heard that?" she gasped. Sirius chuckled.

"Yes, and I'm glad I did. I never took you for the musical type. The song was sad, but I didn't even know you sang." he joked, grabbing a moth-eaten chair from a corner, and plopping down in it lazily. Hermione smiled her soft sweet smile.

"I've been at the piano since I was five. And I actually write songs and all. Sadly, most are from personal experience." she said, nodding lovingly towards the piano, with it's broken keys, and it's cobwebbed corners. Sirius looked at her thoughtfully.

"You know, that piano was Lily's." he said quietly. Hermione looked confused.

"Lily Potter?"

"Yeah. She played, really good, too. She came here a lot, whenever her and James got into a fight or whatever. He could be a prat sometimes. She would sit there, like you were, just now, and just play her heart out. This thing hasn't been used in years." Sirius said, not exactly looking at Hermione, but at the piano bench, as if her could still see his friend.

"I had no idea she played." Hermione whispered, almost reverently, running her fingers softly over the ivory of the keys. Sirius looked her in the eye.

"I see her in you. Even though you aren't related. You remind me of her. You're both Muggle-born, but brilliant. You're both brave and strong-willed. You both are beautiful and kind, and talented." he said, trailing off, due to an involuntary lump in his throat. Hermione grinned cheekily at him.

"I'm beautiful, am I?" she said, her nose scrunching up in an amused expression. Sirius nodded at her, with mock seriousness.

"Absolutely. I just can't believe how a lovely girl like yourself could possibly compose such a sad song, and from personal experience at that." he commented, picking at a loose thread on the brocade fabric of his chair. Hermione paused, to swing her legs around the piano bench, so that she could face him. This also gave Sirius a view of her creamy sun-kissed legs, long and slender, and clad in black spandex shorts. He gulped, giving her a less-than-appropriate once over.

"Oh. Well, to start, all of the boys that I've dated have been complete gits." she said, laughing, politely ignoring Sirius' no-so-discreet stare. Sirius grinned.

"Surely you've found at least one decent guy. I half expected you and Harry to, you know, before he got with Ginny."

"No. Seams Finnegan was the best of the group, but still, a player none the less." she said, the bitterness in her tone poorly hidden. Sirius looked at her sadly, and took her smaller hands in his large rough ones, trying hard not to think about how soft her hands were.

"Hermione Granger, I told you before, you are the brightest witch of your age. I promise you, all men are idiots. They will treat you terribly, and when they lose you, they will find someone else. But, you will find a sweet boy who loves you and makes you happy." he said, making Hermione blush furiously.

"I don't think there's a decent man in the world." she said, smirking. Sirius chuckled.

"You could always resort to lesbianism." he said. Hermione grimaced.

"Absolutely not." she scoffed. Sirius shrugged, dropping her hands.

"Suit yourself. But I for one, find two girls together highly attractive." he stated. Hermione crinkled her nose at him.

"It's just not my style. Plus, I'm not trying to act like some crazy femme fatale. I don't agree with going above and beyond to grab a man's attention." she said, steering the conversation elsewhere. Sirius could see that the topic was making her uncomfortable.

"No? Isn't that every woman's goal? To please a man?" Sirius asked, propping his feet casually on the piano bench beside Hermione, who rolled her eyes at his comment.

"Not for me. It's positively degrading towards us women."

"Not necessarily. From what Harry tells me, you do pretty well not trying to be attractive with the boys back at school." Sirius said, his grey eyes twinkling in amusement. Hermione tilted her head, a quizzical expression upon her face.

"Excuse me?" she asked, truly bewildered. Sirius nodded.

"Oh, yes. Harry talks to me about you. Or he used to. He used to fancy you quite a bit, actually. And apparently so did the rest of the boys in your House. Didn't you know that?"

"No." Hermione said simply. She looked pleased. Sirius was surprised; he'd thought Harry was exaggerating. Obviously not.

"Well it's what he said. I mean, who wouldn't love you?" Sirius complimented. Hermione hung her head in embarrassment.

"Shut up, you old womanizer." she teased, nudging his leg with her foot playfully. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm old, love?" he asked. Hermione frowned.

"Not really. Or you don't look or act old." she said, trying to determine if he was offended or not. Sirius smiled good natured-ly.

"So I'm old, but I don't act like it?" he said with a smirk. Hermione grinned.

"Fine. You're young and vivacious, okay?" she said, trying to hide a smile. Sirius folded his hands on his crossed legs.

"Go on." he said pompously. Hermione grinned.

"You are a devilishly crazy playboy, with a Peter Pan type charisma, and oddly attractive features." she said, blushing at the last part of her sentence, which made Sirius smile even wider.

"And you, my pet, are a beautiful young flower, with gorgeous legs and a nice rack." he said, his expression becoming smug at the sight of the self-conscious flush creeping up the base of her neck.

"Pervert." she giggled, mock-glaring at him. Sirius put his hands up defensively.

"Oh so now I'm old _and_ a pervert. Your words sting, love." he said, a bark of laughter escaping his lips.

"Shut up. I just complimented you. Isn't that enough?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips jokingly. Sirius laughed loudly.

"Indian giver."

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><p><strong>Yes, this is just another story that has been consuming my mind and my time. I don't know why I like this at all, it's so randomly just...there. <strong>

**But, haha, I hope you like it(: **

**Song: 'Jar of Hearts' by: Christina Perri. No copyright infringement intended. All rights reserved by whichever record company that Christina Perri belongs to. (Haha).**

**KAY.**


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